Blind Faith
by Sexy Bookworm
Summary: After a tragety, Joe finds comfort in Iola, as they contemplate the meaning of life, heaven, and all that is to come and has been, as they sit under the stars. Character death. One Shot. Dark Iola/Joe.


Note: This story was wrote ages ago, by myself, So my writing isn't as advanced as it is now. But I like it. And, in light of recent events, I felt the need to post it. It also touches on some religious beliefs. I'm not trying to offend anyone. And I killed Frank. I know, I'm a bad girl.

Blind Faith

_"Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp because dawn has come."- Rabindranath Tagore_

"Really, it's all about blind faith." She said, loud and clear as the two lay on top of his car, sipping wine. She knows he's not all there. She can't really blame him. But she's trying to bring him back.

Joe Hardy looked to her and raised his eyebrows. He was three quarters of the way drunk, but that didn't mean thoughts still weren't racing through his head.

"Blind faith?"

Iola Morton vigorously nodded her head as she averted her eyes upwards, towards heaven.

"Yes. Blind faith. You don't know if there is a heaven, there is not the least bit of proof. It's all about having faith in something you can't see. Blind faith." Despite the confusion that Joe had been experiencing the last couple of days, Iola's bittersweet and simple words seemed to make sense to him.

"Yes. It really is, isn't it? It's the same with god. You don't know if he's real or not. I mean, yes, there's signs. But it all comes down to blind faith. The ability to think that seeing isn't believing, that believing is seeing." Joe says. Iola smiles and nods, and takes another sip of her wine. She was only a quarter of the way drunk. She was too afraid to get fully drunk. Joe, her boyfriend, best friend, protector had just lost his older brother in a fiery explosion. Terrorists. A bomb. Iola didn't know all the details, and it really didn't matter. All that mattered was that her best friend needed her. So she was there.

"And you know what else?" She says, as she flicks a black curl out of her eyes, and turns her head towards Joe.

"What?" He says, sounded more alive then he has in the last five days.

"I think it doesn't matter how many people you have killed, or all the horrid things you've done. No, that shouldn't matter, because isn't God suppose to know everything? So if he does, he'll be able to know if your good on the inside. He'll be able to know how you felt, the regret, the pain, the tears, and the love. So, even if you've killed a million people. If you have loved and regretted, isn't that enough? Aren't two or three passionate emotions enough?"

Joe smiled a bit, and this smile excites Iola more than when she turned 16, more than when she was accepted into the college of her dreams, more than when her first piece of art sold. He smiled.

"It should be, shouldn't it? But sometimes I wonder. Do we ever do enough? Are we meant to do more? Should we be doing more than just working in gas stations, and going to parties, and having children?"

Joe then finished his latest glass of wine, leaned over the edge of the car, and picked up the bottle. He then filled his glass to the brim, and took a long sip. Joe almost wanted to laugh. His brother, his best friend, was dead. And he was coping by sitting next to Iola Natalie Morton, on her car, sipping wine, and discussing philosophy.

Iola then said, "I always wondered that. As a kid, I wasn't terrified of killers, or snakes, or spiders, or needles. My greatest fear at the age of 14 was that I would become nothing. Or, just be married with kids and living in a small town. My own future was my greatest fear. I didn't want to die without friends, and having not made a difference. But then, I'd look at my grades, and think, how am I suppose to open doors with these letters? Then, I'd think, How am I suppose to be good at math and science, when I feel no passion, no need to do well? And lastly, how can this world depend so much on a few goddamn letters? That was what kept me awake at night. Not if the guy down the street liked me, but my future."

Joe then turned to Iola, and reached for her hand.

"I never knew that."

Iola smiled a bit as she attempted to find the big dipper in the sky, tightly gripping Joe's hand.

"Aw, I thought about you at night, don't worry Joey."

Joe just shook his head, a taste of a bitter sweet smile tainting his lips.

"Not that, you goof. The part about your fears. That's not fair."  
Iola tilted her head to the side and gazed over at Joe.

"What?"

"Your fears." He said simply as he took a sip of the ruby red liquid.

"Why?" She said, totally and utterly confused, silently begging him to elaborate.

"When I was a kid, most girl's a knew were terrified of spiders, paniced about grades, and daydreamed about soap operas or the guy sitting next to her.. You were one of the few stuck with the burden of knowing that adults weren't perfect, that kid's were considered stupid, that most people become nothing, that love is very rare, and that life wasn't fair."

Iola then laughed softly. Part of Joe wanted to strangle her for laughing at him. Of course, he had been pretty on edge as of late, so the stangle thing could just be his overactive emotions.

"God, Joe. We went from talking about God to talking about my childhood fears. How's that for ADD?"  
Joe sipped his wine and shook his head.

"No, we were talking about philosophy and still are. Meaning of life."

Iola finished off her glass of liquor and sat her cup on the ground. She had a slight buzz, and for tonight, the pain had been numbed enough.

"Ain't that cliché? Meaning of life, what the hell is it? Really."

Joe tilted his head to the left, and thought for a moment.

"You want to know a secret?"  
Iola crossed her arms over her chest and peeked over at Joe.  
"I love a good secret."

He then sighed and began his speech.

"I think we all have a different meaning of life. Some people think life is there to make a difference, some to help others, some to fall in love, and some to make money. We all have different agendas, different ideas, and different beliefs. But when it comes down to point, we all have a different meaning of life. And, hey, some of us don't even know what our meaning is."  
Iola felt tears lining her eyelids as she smiled.

"You mean you and I don't know our meanings?"  
Joe looked up at the sky, oblivious to how his words affected Iola.

"Exactly."

Iola then said, "All is riddle, and the key to a riddle is another riddle."

Joe then gave Iola a surprised and bemused look.

"Emerson. I've got to stop watching Criminal Minds."

Joe closed his eyes as he said, "Aw, the quote in the beginning of the episode. Nice."

The two then lapsed into silence for what could have been a few seconds, minutes, or even hours. You know how it is, when you're sitting under the stars, time just seems to stop.

Joe then asked the question that had been occupying his thoughts since the beginning of this conversation.

"You think Frank went to heaven, you know, if there is one?"

Iola then thought for a moment, planning not her ideas, but her words.

"I think he did, if there is one. Frank loved you, me, Callie, and other people. He was by no means perfect. He was practically obsessive compulsive, he was overprotective, he sometimes tried so hard everything just went down hill, he was so nice that people like you and me were jealous of him. He made mistakes, but he loved, lived, and tried hard to be good. If I was god, that would be enough."

Joe then silently sat down his glass, picked up Iola's glass, filled it, and handed it to her. He then picked up his glass, and raised it.  
"To Frank." Joe said, voice steady. Iola nodded.

"And blind faith."

"And the meaning of life."

Iola smiled.

"But, mostly Frank. Beloved friend, brother, husband, and cop."

"And to heaven, if there is one."

The two than drank to that.


End file.
